


Living Dead Girl

by Apetslife



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Genderswap, M/M, Other, reference to off-screen attempted sexual assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:30:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apetslife/pseuds/Apetslife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spike gets turned into a girl.  Yep. Written circa 2001.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Living Dead Girl

Ungh.

Evening already? And hung-fucking-over again.

Hard crypt. Soddin' thing wasn't improved any by that ratty old blanket,  
either. Spike could feel his ear indenting into his head painfully, from  
where it was pressed against hard cement. He tried to lift his head.  
Failed, cursed the pain shooting through his skull, and relaxed down.

Funny. His chest was a bit sore up against the crypt lid, as well. Didn't  
remember getting hit there last night, but then, lack of memory lately  
didn't necessarily mean it hadn't happened. If he didn't find some new  
liquor stores to knock over soon, he was gonna deplete the entire greater  
Sunnydale area of its stores of Jack Daniels.

He chuckled a bit at the thought, and forced himself to push up till he was  
almost sitting, and only swaying slightly. His hands looked a little  
strange, where they were propping him up. Thinner. And his wrists  
finer-boned. He shook his head, blinked, cursed the JD again, and swung off  
the crypt onto the floor. Time for a bit of mayhem, and if anything could  
cure this hangover, it was more-

*What the bleedin'-!*

He'd fallen on his ass, all off-balance. He looked down. He saw the reason  
why. He screamed.

********

*When Xander was in Egypt-land....Let my Xaaaaander gooooooo.* Xander shook  
his head, blinked, stared unseeingly at the Book of Kh'ardith (3rd  
translation) on his lap. *Must...stop...channeling...Ferris...Bueller...*  
He looked around. Buffy, fidgeting. Willow and Tara, too cute for words,  
cuddling and studying and somehow making that work. Anya, polishing some  
random artifact in the store for the three-millionth time. Giles, all  
business, of course.

Bo. RING.

He was about to drop the book and recommend a random patrol--Buffy looked to  
be about as thrilled with this research session as he was--when the door  
chime trilled and in came Spike. Always good for a laugh, Spike, or at  
least a quick beating, and Xander perked right up.

"Dead man walking! What brings you to our delightful store, this evening?"  
He looked up, waited for a volley that never came. Froze. Stared. Looked  
at Buffy, who was frozen, staring. At Giles. Same. At Tara. He could see  
her tonsils. Anya hadn't noticed a thing. Maybe it was really a mass  
hallucination. Nope. Willow was staring too. And turning red.

Spike was...Not-Spike. Spikette? Spikina? Xander let his mind babble on,  
as his eyes just took in information.

Hair. White-blond still, but curling to Spike's ears. Eyebrows finer, more  
arched, but still scarred on the left. Eyes? Same. Whoa. Looking really  
pissed off there, Spike old...girl. Jaw softer, lips fuller. Neck still  
long and pale, but without an adam's apple.

And breasts. That's what finally did it. Xander felt the breath leave him  
in an almost painful snort. BREASTS. Spike had them. Not huge, but  
generous enough, and most definitely there, under the  
even-smaller-than-usual black t-shirt. He snorted again, sucked in breath,  
and was suddenly completely hysterical.

*SPIKE IS A GIRL! HOOOO!*

*******

If Xander didn't stop soon, he was going to hurt himself. Willow was pretty  
sure you needed to breathe more than that to maintain brain function. Just  
as soon as she got done staring at Spike, she'd go slap him out of it or  
something.

"Spike?" Her own voice was a whisper in her ears, but Spike apparently  
heard it, even over Xander's howls, and swung to face her.

*Oh, I am so not telling him...*

He...she?...vamped out. Took one menacing step forward, and SNARLED.

"Witch. What the FUCK is goin' on here."

Willow blinked. Still British, but Spike was definitely not a baritone any  
more.

"Um. Spike?" She didn't seem to be able to process more than that. He  
took another step forward. Stumbled a little, caught himself with a hand on  
the back of Xander's chair, shook his head, slipped back to human face.  
Looked so bewildered that Willow was up out of the armchair in a flash, and  
had him by the arm, and was helping him sit. The arm was disturbingly  
slender in her hand.

"Spike, what on EARTH?" Giles was at her shoulder, staring down at Spike,  
who was just staring blankly. Xander had finally started to wind down, and  
was gasping quietly from his place on the floor. Willow patted Spike's  
shoulder, comfortingly, she hoped. She put on her best brisk tone, the one  
that always worked on Xander.

"Well. I guess we'd better see about getting you some new clothes, huh?"

*What? What did I say? Why are they all looking at me like that?*

********

Spike had been dispatched with Tara, who was deemed most likely to have  
properly-sized loaner clothes for a 5'9 female vampire. The jeans he was  
wearing had been skintight on male hips, and the zipper had obviously gone  
at some point during the transformation, and "Spike, you're not wearing  
UNDERWEAR!" and off they went. Spike was still apparently in shock, but  
shuffled off after Tara when told.

The five remaining in the Magic Box just stared at each other. Giles looked  
at Buffy, who was still a bit stunned. Anya, who had finally caught on and  
seemed to be wondering what all the fuss was about. Xander, who was done  
laughing and had gone to amazement. And Willow, who would not meet his  
eyes.

*Oh dear.*

"Willow?"

"Yes, Giles?" Still not looking at him.

"I am certain that you would have had nothing to do with a spell that would  
result in such a...remarkable result. But for my peace of mind, please tell  
me this is in no way, in ANY way, due to your actions."

"Um."

"Willow."

"Yes, Giles?"

"What did you DO?"

"Um."

"Tell me immediately."

"Well, he was bothering Buffy."

"Wait, WHAT?" Oh good, Buffy was speaking now. Lovely.

"It was just a little...I was just trying to...I mean, it was just supposed  
to take the testosterone down a LITTLE, you know? So he wouldn't be  
all...flirty and gross and, you know, horny, around Buffy all the time."  
She shuffled a little, miserably. "I didn't know it would do THAT."

"Obviously not." Giles took his glasses off, polished them, put them back  
on, found no comfort in the gesture. "Willow, this reckless use of magic  
simply cannot go on. Especially when it comes to matters of the heart. I  
was so certain that you'd learned that by now." He put all the weight of  
disapproval into his voice that he could. Couldn't, perhaps, help the  
telltale twitch of lip.

"I know, Giles. I'm sorry. But she couldn't stake him, and he's such a  
NUISANCE..." She glanced up at him, saw him sigh and shake his head.  
Lecture over.

"Well. Lesson learned once again, I hope. Now. Can you reverse the  
spell?" Probably not. He was not so fortunate.

"Um. Sure. Kind of. Not really. But it will wear off. I think.  
Eventually." She brightened. "No, it should definitely wear off,  
sometime." Her face fell again. "Unless it's different for vampires. I  
kind of...adapted a spell. For humans. He USED to be human, right? So it  
should wear off. Right."

"When?" Anya, always practical. "I mean, are we going to have another  
woman with us for long? Because actually I was thinking that there are  
enough breasts around here for Xander to look at already."

"What? Anya, I never look!"

"Xander, you ALWAYS look. It's all right. I've come to accept your strange  
male ways, and I understand that it's a biological imperative for you to  
stare at breasts. As long as you only touch mine, of course." She smiled  
smugly at him.

"Um. Of course." Occasionally, Giles did feel a brief stab of sympathy for  
Xander. But then, the boy had seemed to understand what he was getting  
into, so they never lasted long.

******

Tara wasn't entirely sure what she should do with a female vampire who was  
sitting on her bed like some very large doll, waiting to be dressed. She'd  
gotten Spike out of the t-shirt, refusing FIRMLY to look at the rather  
nice...*ahem*...but she was daunted by the jeans, half-fastened or no.  
Well, boots. She could start with the boots.

"Spike? I'm, um, gonna take off your boots now, ok?" No response. She  
sighed. Bent, wrestled with one rusted buckle, gave up and pulled, and it  
slid off surprisingly easily. *Oh, smaller feet, of course. Shoes, too,  
Tara, silly girl. Hope he can fit a size 8.* The other boot followed, and  
then she was tugging on jeans before she lost her nerve, THERE, and tossing  
the corner of the comforter over Spike's lap to cover the...*ahem*.

"I don't...I don't think I have any black jeans. Well, I have a black  
SKIRT. Would that be ok?"

"NO it would bloody well NOT!" Spike leapt into life and up off the bed,  
froze, blushed, ripped the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around him  
like a mummy. "I don't know what the soddin' hell is goin' on here, but I  
am NOT wearin' some dress." He was glaring right at her now, and she wasn't  
quite sure she wouldn't have been happier if he'd stayed all coma-y.

"O-OK. I, I think I've got some pants..." She turned quickly and began  
rummaging through a dresser drawer. Finally emerged with one of her  
favorite pairs--green, with purple flowers. Discovered that Spike's look of  
scorn had survived his transformation quite intact.

"I'm FEMALE, not BLIND, you stupid bint. S'pose I shouldn't be surprised,  
given the monstrosities you lot wear--an' it's all your fault, you know, Red  
used to dress a right piece--but haven't you got a PLAIN pair of trousers in  
this mess?" He waited. She could almost see his foot tapping.

She tossed him a pair of clean sleep-boxers from the dresser, and turned  
back. *The corduroy? No, they have yellow stripes. The blue pair? No, I  
cut those up and made them into a skirt. Um. He probably won't want  
purple. Can't hurt to ask.*

"Pur-"

"NO."

Sigh. *There are the leggings that I wear with that skirt...no, I'll bet he  
doesn't think the little fishes are cute. OH! Here they are.* She turned,  
triumphant, with her one pair of plain blue jeans in hand. Spike had  
dropped the comforter. Had donned the boxers. That was something. Right?  
*Brain. Keep working. Please?*

Because Spike was still lean and hard, and still had muscles, only now there  
was an intriguing dip at his waist, and his ribcage was narrower, and his  
collarbone more delicate, and she really shouldn't stare at breasts that  
perfect, and his legs were slender and smooth and LONG below a gentle swell  
of hip, and she could see the arch of hipbone where the boxers slid  
dangerously low...*swallow, Tara. Think of Willow. You love Willow. Hand  
Spike the jeans. Good girl.*

She hurried off to find a t-shirt. Preferably in a neutral color, without a  
cute logo. *This might take a while.*

*******

Spike was sulking, and Buffy really couldn't blame him. She couldn't  
imagine waking up as a guy, after all. He'd stomped in after Tara, every  
move DARING someone to speak to him, and hadn't said a word since. He was  
just sort of huddled in the the darkest corner of the store, arms wrapped  
around his knees, in Tara's too-big clothes, glaring at anyone who looked at  
him. Which none of them could help doing, mostly in sidelong stares, though  
Anya, *BIG surprise* was more blatant. Completely blatant.

"WHAT?" Spike still had the growl, even if it was a little  
more...alto...than what she was used to.

"I think you need to buy a bra. Perhaps more than one."

Buffy was glad to note that she wasn't the only person in the room staring  
at Anya in shock. *Spike? Shopping for underwear? GIRLS underwear? Oh,  
no. No no no.* Anya forged on, undeterred.

"I think maybe Buffy should take you. She has pretty things. She's a  
wonderful shopper. When I first changed over, she made some suggestions to  
me that really helped out." She nodded firmly. "That way, you won't be  
bouncing around like you are now. It's not good for them. And it's  
distracting Xander." Xander and Spike exchanged identical, horrified looks.

"It is NOT!" Xander lurched to his feet. "I am not checking out  
Spike's..." his hand made a vague circling motion in the direction of  
Spike's corner, "...his RACK! JESUS, Anya!"

She was looking injured. Xander was looking furious. Buffy was fascinated.

"When Spike came in in that rather large t-shirt, you stared at his breasts  
for a very long time, Xander. I notice these things because I'm a good  
girlfriend. Don't you want me to pay attention to what you do?"

"NO, Anya, I don't! Not every little thing! This is getting out of  
control. And...and...you've been human for YEARS now! I know I'm not  
always Mr. Sensitivity, but come ON! Even I'm not nearly as bad as you!  
There is some shit you JUST DON'T SAY IN PUBLIC!"

In the hush that followed, Xander clenched his hands, glowered at Anya, then  
turned and stomped out the door, letting it slam behind him. Anya, looking  
remarkably unquelled, scurried after him.

"Well." Spike had that old familiar light in his eye...Buffy knew that  
look.

"No, Spike, don't you DARE." She scowled at him. "No troublemaking for  
you, mister, or I won't take you to Victoria's Secret."

"And that's a threat how, exactly, Slayer?"

She looked at him. Crossed her arms over her own chest, and smirked.

"You'll find out, the first time you try to run."

 


	2. Living Dead Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life lessons with Spike.

The worst part, Spike thought, was not having a single clue what he looked   
like. Not that he'd been primping at mirrors recently, but at least he'd   
had a memory of what sort of face he'd been wearing. Now? No idea.

He kicked at a dog on the sidewalk, howled, held his head, and kept walking.   
Nice to see the chip didn't discriminate.

"Oh, hey, I'd been wondering about that." Buffy was just far too perky,   
strolling along beside him like she hadn't a care in the world. "Guess   
that's still working, huh? Good thing. I never liked staking the girls."

"What's that, some sort of backwards notion of chivalry?"

"No. I don't know. Maybe."

"Buffy, you're a GIRL."

"So?"

Spike sighed, and went back to slouching and stomping down the sidewalk. He   
was going to the MALL. With the SLAYER. Fuck-all. But one good   
up-and-down jump had convinced him, and he was still all muddled in his   
head, and it really just seemed best to go along with what the girls said.   
The OTHER girls.

The palms of his hands were resting against his hipbones, through his   
pockets, and he remembered feeling hips move like this before, when he'd   
wrapped himself around Dru while they were moving. Kind of a roll and   
slide, more side-to-side than what he was used to, and the shape of the   
bones was different. Rounder. And so BLOODY bizarre. His hair was   
brushing his ears. He could feel the breasts--couldn't think of 'em as   
HIS--moving around with every step. A rather bouncing jiggle. Annoying,   
and they kept pulling him forward, away from his normal balance. How the   
HELL did girls run about with these things on 'em?

He looked consideringly over at Buffy. He still towered over her, and   
wondered suddenly if he was freakishly tall, or something. No, Dru had been   
eye-to-eye with him, so he was probably ok there. Bit leggy, perhaps, but   
he'd never minded that when HE was a bloke, and-his mind flinched away.

"Oi, Slayer?"

"Spike? Oh, hey, should we call you something else now? I think Xander was   
saying something about Spikette." Bright smile. She was enjoying this far   
too fuckin' much. He glared.

"Chip or no chip, first arsehole calls me some pansy name gets his spine   
ripped out. Or hers."

"My, Spike, looks like the change is doing you good. You're all PC now. I   
think that's freakier than the breasts, actually."

"Bitch."

"Slut."

"An' how would YOU know? I'll have you know I'm a very nice girl." He was   
grinning now, he just couldn't help it. Laugh or cry, right.

"Sure you are, Spike. It's nice not to be fighting off the wandering hands,   
though, I must say."

"Oh, I don't know. You're still a pretty piece. Fancy a walk on the   
witches' side of the street?" He chuckled at her expression, though it came   
out more of a giggle. *Not thinking about that.*

"Oh NO! You mean that hasn't changed?"

He stopped walking, paused to evaluate, then and there in the middle of the   
sidewalk, outside the mall. He still loved her, yeah, though that might be   
a bit because she seemed so much more comfortable with him now, and he'd   
been waiting so long...the desire was still there too, though not as strong.   
Rather like what he'd felt for the occasional handsome bloke, back when   
he'd had the original equipment.

"Yep. Don't fret yourself, though. I'll be a bit busy, yeah? Tryin' to   
keep myself in one piece. Don't figure I'll be able to just stroll into   
Willy's and get my blood, or go out fighting demons. Seeing as how I can't   
fuckin' WALK properly, an' all. An' I won't be showin' my face much, I'll   
tell you that. William the Bloody gone female. I'd never hear the end."

Buffy stood, just looking at him.

"This must be SO weird for you."

"What clued you, the tits or my sunny expression?"

"No, I mean, this is really weird. You're Spike, but you're not. You're a   
girl. A GIRL." She shook her head. "I don't know if I can deal with   
this."

"YOU don't have to deal with it at all. I'm the one's lost my jimmy."

"Jeez, Spike, crude much?" She started walking again.

"I'm missing my cock, not my brain."

She groaned, and pushed her way through the mall doors. He followed, still   
grinning. Still beating back the nervous breakdown that he could feel   
lurking in the back of his mind.

********

*It's amazing what some decent clothes can do.* She'd had her hands full in   
Victoria's Secret, with Spike leering and gravitating towards leopard prints   
and garter belts, but she'd been firm, and he'd managed to get a few normal   
things. Figuring out his size had been fun, of the not-fun variety. They'd   
hit Macy's after, where Spike had resolutely refused to try on anything that   
wasn't a pair of black jeans. And then she'd been struck by inspiration.   
Urban Outfitters, SUCH a Spike store. He'd crowed over the leather pants,   
the slinky jeans, and the 'Boybands Suck' t-shirt, and had even seemed to   
briefly consider the little black dress with 'Fuck Off' in studs on the   
chest, before reinstating the no-skirts rule.

She had to admit, he was gorgeous. SHE was gorgeous. Spike had always   
looked a little too angular to her as a man...harsh edges and severe planes   
and too many sharp corners. But as a girl, his face was softer, though he'd   
kept those insane cheekbones and the blue cat-eyes. Bastard. And with the   
new clothes...the jeans fit just right, cut low on his hips. The shirt was   
snug; red, of course, a normal t-shirt but cut small. And she'd made him   
get shoes, plain black but definitely for a girl. With that curly unruly   
white-blond hair tucked behind his ears...he looked like the sort of girl   
that could walk into a club and just take the place over. And those guys   
had TOTALLY whistled at them when they left the mall, though Spike hadn't   
seemed to notice at all. Probably because he was used to being the   
whistle-er, not the whistle-ee, she thought, uncharitably.

"Well?"

"You're a pretty cute girl, Spike. And it's SO disturbing that I told you   
that."

"Can't resist my charms, eh Slayer?" He smirked at her, but it didn't seem   
so glaringly...SUGGESTIVE, as it had when he was, well, a HE. She rolled   
her eyes.

"Yeah, that must be it. Come on, it's late, this place is closing and I've   
got school tomorrow. Take your brand-new wardrobe and go."

He looked instantly uncertain, and she suddenly realized where her newfound   
comfort level had come from. He wasn't a threat. He was moving awkwardly,   
something she'd NEVER seen Spike do. Usually he was all slinky smoothness,   
but now...he seemed to not know where to put his hands. He looked   
vulnerable. Not-at-home in his skin. *Duh, Buffy.*

And she shouldn't care, really she shouldn't, but it had been kind of fun,   
shopping with Spike, once they'd gotten the underwear out of the way. He   
was pretty amusing, after all. And he HAD helped them out a few times now,   
and they hadn't really been very nice to him, not that they needed to, since   
he was evil and everything, but-

"Come on. Mom would wig if I brought you home, but I'll bet Giles will let   
you sleep on his couch."

His head snapped up, his eyes narrowed.

"What, charity now? Tsk, Slayer, I thought you were more enlightened than   
to go discriminatin' on the basis of gender. Ta SO much, but I think I'll   
toddle off home with the rest of the delicate flowers." He turned on his   
heel and strode away, an effect marred a little by the four brightly-colored   
shopping bags he was toting.

Buffy shook her head in disbelief. *I just bought him $500 worth of   
clothes, and he's getting pissy about CHARITY?* She shrugged, and headed   
for home.

********

Spike didn't like admitting it even to himself, but he scurried home,   
slammed the crypt door shut, and leaned back against it, panting hard for   
unneeded air.

********

Patrol was kind of like school, Xander'd always thought. Long periods of   
boredom punctuated by moments of absolute terror. At least this time it was   
just him and Buffy and Willow, kinda workin' the old school vibe and   
chatting back and forth. Tara was studying for some final. Giles was   
reading up on the next predicted apocalypse. And Anya...

Anya was home, trying to wrap her mind around the concept that he wanted to   
break up with her. She was cute. Pretty. Smart. Hot in bed. And so   
fucking annoying he was afraid he was gonna snap like OJ one day soon. So,   
before he had to go hunting up Johnnie Cochran's direct office number, he'd   
figured it was best to just end it. She didn't seem to understand. He'd   
said, "It's over." She'd asked why. He'd said, "I don't want to date you   
anymore," and she'd said, "But I still want to date YOU."

Maybe he'd have Willow talk to her. Willow had always been better at   
communicating with An-

A commotion in the hedge, Buffy spinning, stake at the ready, he and Willow   
falling back in the standard positions, holy water to hand, moment of frozen   
*what is going to try to kill us this time?*, and.

A streak in black leather FLUNG itself over the hedge, sprinting for the   
other side of the path, checked itself sharply, and spun to face Buffy.   
Panting. Panicking. Spike. So beautiful it hurt Xander's eyes to look at   
him.

"Coming." He gestured vaguely at the hedge. Xander noticed his cheek was   
bruised, his hand bleeding, and he was bent a little, protecting his side.

"What? Who? Spike, who-"

More crashing from the hedge, and Buffy twisted back, tensed and at the   
ready for whatever huge demon had sent Spike, SPIKE, dashing for safety.

Six boys came through the hedge. Men, really, college age and drunk as   
skunks. Xander could smell them from ten feet away. They were laughing and   
pushing, and then they caught sight of the little group staring at them.

Tall-in-blue-t-shirt drew up in surprise, and stood swaying for a second,   
before leering and smacking blond-hair-Doc-Martens in the shoulder.

"Check it, Jamie! More of 'em!"

"Hey!" Xander was a little indignant. It didn't take a rocket scientist to   
figure out what had been going on, and he didn't like being referred to as   
one of "more of 'em." Then it really hit him, what had been going on. And   
he stepped in front of Spike. *Oh, those fuckers. Those FUCKERS. I hope   
Buffy leaves one for me.* It didn't seem likely, given the expression the   
Slayer was sporting as she glanced back at Spike, then at the crowd in front   
of her.

"Just what the hell is going on here?" Her voice could cut glass.

"Hey, just me an' the boys having a little fun with my girlfriend, there.   
Right, girlfriend?" He tried to move towards Spike, was blocked by 5'2" of   
very angry blond.

"I don't think your 'girlfriend' is interested. You should really go home   
and sleep it off." She was giving them a chance, Xander realized. Poor   
Buffy, burdened by conscience. He would've ripped their heads off long   
since.

"You wanna come sleep it off with me?" Black-hair-bad-jacket piped in, to   
laughter.

"Not hardly. Leave. Now. Or you'll regret it."

"Babycakes. I ain't going nowhere without my girlfriend." Xander could   
feel Spike tense behind him, and reached back with a comforting hand. Was   
almost surprised when a smaller, cooler hand slipped into his, and clamped   
down hard.

Buffy had, apparently, had it.

"She's NOT" punch "YOUR" kick "GIRLFRIEND" punchkicksweep, and Xander was   
pounding joyfully away at a face, and Willow was chanting something that   
sounded really really mean, and Spike was cowering behind a tombstone,   
because of that FUCKING chip, and there was a shout and the pounding of feet   
and some groans, and it was over. Xander rubbed his sore knuckles, and   
turned. Willow was patting Spike's shoulder and looking concerned.

"Hey, Spike. You ok?" Buffy was being awfully gentle with him. "What   
happened?"

Spike shrugged, looked at his feet, letting blond hair fall into his face.

"Just thought I'd have a drink at the bar. Have a bit of fun, you know?"   
He shrugged again. "This lot took me out back, an' I couldn't fight them   
off. Said I came in alone, and that made me fair game." He looked up, met   
Xander's eyes. He'd found some black eyeliner somewhere, and it made his   
eyes huge and dark. "I only let them buy me drinks."

"Oh, jeez, Spike." Buffy shook her head. "You can't do that when you're a   
girl."

He looked indignant.

"Why not? Seems the only perk I might get out of this nightmare is a bit of   
free booze."

"Spike. When you look like you do, and talk like you do, there's no such   
thing as free booze."

"Why not?" He seemed to be genuinely curious, though there was still a bit   
of that panic in his eyes, and Xander didn't like it. What if they hadn't   
been there? What if Spike hadn't kept that vampiric speed? What if he   
hadn't been able to break free?

 

Xander kicked one of the unconscious bodies again, for good measure.

"Thanks for giving us all a bad name, asshole."

Willow sighed, and ignored Xander, and answered Spike.

"That's just the way it is. Come on, Spike. We'll take you back to   
Giles's, get you patched up."

Xander couldn't help but notice that Spike walked at his side the whole way   
home. He was careful not to stare.


	3. What A Girl Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike pulls himself together. And takes up gambling.

_*OK, the vibe has totally changed, here. What on earth is going on?*_  
Willow had called her over from the dorm, and hearing the worry in her  
voice, she'd come running. Only to find Willow and Buffy fawning over a  
bruised Spike, who looked like he was torn between running screaming for the  
door, and relaxing into the attention. Xander had a face like a  
thundercloud, and every time he looked at Spike, he cursed. Giles was  
normal, at least. He looked fed up.

"Let me see if I understand this correctly. Buffy, PLEASE pay attention.  
Spike was, er, assaulted by a group of men, and you left how many of them  
unconscious in the cemetary?"

"Three." She was holding an icepack to Spike's bruised cheek.

"Three. In the cemetary. On the hellmouth. At midnight. Buffy, I  
hesitate to mention this in light of our present company, but there ARE  
vampires about who will make short work of them."

"Good." Willow sounded fierce. Giles sighed.

"I know that you're angry, Willow, but really, this is going too far. You  
cannot leave people lying about like some kind of, of vampire BUFFET."

"I don't see why not, Giles! What if it had been me? Or, or DAWN? What  
happens the next time they see some poor girl in a bar alone?"

"Oi! I'm not some poor girl, here!" Spike's voice was oddly muffled by his  
swollen mouth.

"Spike, you ARE a girl, for now anyway." Buffy patted his shoulder. "And  
there are rules, and since you can't get yourself out of trouble, you'd  
better learn them quick."

"How the hell do YOU know the rules, any road? S'not like you can't fight  
yourself out of any mess." He was pouting now.

"Girls just know. Trust me." Willow nodded. Tara, after a moment, nodded  
too. It was true, after all.

"People...this public service announcement is lovely, really, but what about  
those men in the cemetary? Buffy, you just cannot have blood on your hands  
like this. You WILL regret it, later." Giles was rubbing his head, like  
there was maybe a migraine coming on.

"Well, I'm not going." Willow was firm. "If you're so concerned about  
them, take Buffy and go wake them up. Demons aren't the only evil, Giles,  
you know."

"Can I come too?" Xander cracked his knuckles and looked eager.

"No, you need to stay here and let me know if I'm getting the rules right.  
Oh, and I don't want to have to come visit you in jail if you kill one of  
them." General Willow. Tara smiled at her fondly.

"Fine." Buffy sighed, handed the icepack to Willow, and stood. "Come on,  
Giles. We'll go make sure the friendly neighborhood sex offenders live to  
rape again."

"Now, Buffy, you KNOW I'm not condoning..." Giles's voice faded as they  
walked out.

"Right, then, tell me these soddin' rules. An' does the Watcher still have  
that nice scotch stashed under the cabinet? I could use a drink, I could."  
Apparently Spike had decided to milk the situation, and Tara grinned as she  
went in search of the alcohol. Her sweet Willow would be putty, for as long  
as it took for her to figure it out. _*When are these people going to learn  
not to underestimate Spike? I mean, I've known him half as long as they  
have, and even I can see him being manipulative. Ah well. It seems to work  
for them.*_

Willow sat in the chair opposite Spike, and looked at him very seriously.  
Xander was still pacing. Tara handed Spike a tumbler with the whiskey, and  
perched next to Willow. THIS was going to be entertaining.

"OK. Rules. Well, you already know the first one, I guess. Don't go to  
seedy bars by yourself. Especially don't go to them and let strange men buy  
you drinks. They usually expect something in return."

"Not all of us." Xander paused long enough to interject.

"Yeah, not all of you. Them. Whatever. This gender thing is getting  
really confusing, Spike. Anyway, so, just take it as a given that we're  
talking about bad men, here. Not all men. There are lots of good ones too,  
but you probably aren't going to find many in places like Mulrooney's."

"Fine, yeah, no more drinkin' alone. I'll just have to cart one of you  
sprats along, I suppose. Next?"

"Well, I'm not really sure how this works with vampires, but girls usually  
can't drink as much as boys. And stay sober, I mean." Tara could  
practically see Willow drawing on their freshman orientation lectures. "So,  
don't drink so much."

"Hey, yeah? That's marvelous. Means I won't have to lay out so much dosh  
for my drinks, then." Spike nodded, looking pleased.

"No, no! You can't drink as much at ALL, because when you're drunk you're  
more vulnerable! Think about it. If you'd been really wasted tonight,  
could you have gotten away?"

"Hmm. P'raps not. So I'll drink alone." He shrugged. "Not much different  
there."

Willow gave up on the alcohol issue.

"Um. Clothes." She blushed a little.

"What about 'em?"

"Well, Buffy took you shopping, right? And got you clothes that fit?"

"Yeah, I'm wearin' em. They fit."

"They sure do." Xander maybe sounded a little more fervent than he'd meant  
to, because Tara was pretty sure she spotted a blush before he turned and  
looked intently at a bookcase.

Willow sighed.

"They're, they're, tight. Snug. Whatever. And I can see..." She waved  
her hand at Spike, helpless.

"What?" He peered down at himself. "Nothing's ripped, I'm all covered up."

"N-nipples." Tara startled even herself. "Willow means she can see your  
nipples." Xander maybe flinched a little. It was hard to tell, with him  
all the way over there, now.

Spike crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "Can't help that, can  
I?"

"No. No, but the whole tight clothing thing...guys are gonna look at you,  
and probably make comments and stuff, and maybe get the idea that you're  
looking for someone to have sex with."

He looked at them, incredulous.

"This happens? To you? To birds in general, I mean?"

_*OK, Tara, remember. You've seen horny-after-Buffy-Spike, and he was hardly  
a shrinking violet, but he WAS with Dru for, like, eons, and she wouldn't  
really let him stray, I'll bet. And he was a human back when guys didn't  
even talk to girls. He really has no idea.*_

Willow was nodding. Spike sat back, looking thoughtful.

"Huh. Well, what if I want 'em to look? It'd be a shame to pass up this  
kind of opportunity, don't you think? See how the other half lives? An' if  
I don't change back quick, I'm sure as hell not gonna join a convent. So  
might as well get the equipment broken in, so to speak. Any of you lot know  
a decent bloke who might be up for a test run?"

He looked at them, all bright, inquiring eyes, and Xander groaned and  
dropped his head against the bookcase, and Willow sighed and gave up, and  
Tara just shook her head. And wondered who was going to be getting a new  
roommate.

******

"Well, he can't stay here." Giles, back from his mission of mercy and  
utterly disgusted with the entire human race. "He's lived with me before,  
and I swore on any number of holy things that he never would again."

"T-there really isn't room in our dorm room." Tara was trying to sound  
regretful about that, but really, Spike was awfully distracting. And loud.  
And destructive.

"My mom would FREAK out, and since the surgery and all, we're trying to keep  
things pretty quiet." Buffy actually did sound regretful. She was kind of  
liking Girl Spike.

"Well, he can't stay with ME." Xander's voice was a little panicky.

"Why not? You'd seem the logical choice. A flat of your own, no family to  
be concerned about. Really, Xander, I think it's the only option." Giles  
had apparently made up his mind.

"Still don't see why I can't just stay in my crypt. I like it. It suits  
me." Spike had a good false pout going, and hoped his relief didn't show in  
his voice.

"I'm sure it does suit you, Spike, but that's really not the issue here.  
After seeing that, that FILTH off..." Giles sputtered to silence, Buffy  
smirked, and Spike wondered yet again what those men had said to agitate the  
normally calm watcher so thoroughly. Not that he'd put anything past them.  
 _*hot grabbing hands forced kiss struggle can't get away too many help! can't  
scream knee in my side twist away-* _ He shook the images clear of his mind.  
Not a difficult trick, after decades of Angelus, after all. Maybe he'd send  
the pouf a card. 'Thank you for forcing me to develop a coping mechanism  
for torture and rape. It's come in handy once again. Yours, William.'  
Willette? Anyway.

"In any event, you need to stay where someone can keep an eye on you. And I  
think we can all agree that Xander's the best choice here?"

Spike made an absent mental note to himself. _*Never turn Xander.*_  
Something about that sheet-white pallor against the dark of his hair just  
wasn't an attractive look for the boy. _*WHOA. Attractive? The whelp?  
Well, maybe. A bit. I could do better, though, I'll bet.*_

"But...there's Anya..." He sounded weak.

"Didn't you break it off with her? Surely she's not still staying with  
you."

"N-no, she's at her own apartment...but she seems to be having a little  
trouble with the concept of 'broken up.' And you know, she may still stop  
by...want to talk..." Xander's voice ran down, and he put his head in his  
hands.

"No fear, mate. I'll send her packing if she shows." Spike bounced to his  
feet, looking forward to a couch-bed and a working telly and a refrigerator  
for his beer. Yeah, this situation was definitely looking up.

*******

_*Not looking at Spike. Not looking at Spike. Not looking at Spike. OK,  
looking at Spike now.*_

The vampire'd flinched back so hard when a man tumbled out of an open bar  
and into him that he'd practically landed on Xander. _*Armful of Spike. Not  
normally a good thing, but I'll make an exception.*_

"Hey, easy there. Nice reflexes though. Good to see those stayed, huh?"  
He let go, eased away, and kept walking. Maybe they could get Spike to call  
a hotline or something. _*Right. Spike would drive the poor counselor to  
suicide in five minutes.*_

"I just..."

"Yeah?" Oh, Willow would be proud. He was being Quietly Supportive Xander!

Deep sigh from beside him.

"Dunno quite how to react, any more. This body-" he ran a hand down  
himself, and Xander was NOT looking, "-it's all strange. I can't quite  
figure how my strength's changed, or where my balance is. It's just so  
bloody odd."

"It's not odd, it's gorgeous." _*Oh, fuck ME. Did I say that out loud?*_

From the way Spike was grinning at him, he had. Well, Xander'd been getting  
philosophical about his own out-of-control mouth for years now. No need to  
go running into traffic this time. No, really. No need at all. He  
groaned, and walked a little faster.

"Fancy me, do you?" Spike sounded positively gleeful. "Why, Xander, I'm  
flattered, I am."

"Don't get too excited about it," Xander grumbled. "A, I'm not known for  
having the greatest taste, just check out the history. B, you know you're  
hot, so quit fishing for compliments."

They walked quietly for a few minutes. Close, now, to Xander's apartment,  
and it was REALLY late, and he was so glad tomorrow was a Saturday. He  
could swing by the crypt and get Spike's stuff, do some grocery shopping,  
hit the record store. Oh, and pay the electric bill, he HAD to remember to  
get that in-

"I don't, y'know."

Xander startled.

"Don't what?"

"Er. Know what I look like. At all, really."

"What?"

"Well. No mirrors. An' I can't quite picture myself, the self I remember,  
anyway, as female. S'rather odd, really." Spike's shoulder bumped his as  
they walked. Easy and familiar. He suddenly realized he'd known Spike  
almost as long as he'd known Buffy. Strange.

"Take heart. You're not going to make children scream and run away, I'll  
tell you that much."

"Yeah?" Spike's smirk was IDENTICAL to the one he'd had as a male. Xander  
kept getting caught up in all the little differences, but a lot was the  
same.

"Yeah. You've still got blue eyes. I think they look bigger because your  
face is narrower, and they still tilt up at the corners, like a cat's. Your  
hair's still curly and almost white, but longer, and I don't even want to  
know how that worked. Dark lashes and eyebrows, but I think your eyelashes  
are longer now, and your brows are finer. Still scarred, though. Hm. Your  
cheekbones are still sharp, but your jaw is softer and, I dunno, curvier.  
Nose is pretty much the same. Your mouth's fuller, I think, and a little  
less wide." He reached out with one finger and touched that plush pink  
lower lip. He just could not help himself.

"Beautiful. Yeah." He turned, stuffed his hands back into his pockets, and  
walked the rest of the way in silence. Spike shared it.

********

 _*Five days. I can't believe Xander's made it five days!*_ Buffy looked over  
at the token male Scooby, not without some sympathy. He'd been ranting for  
almost ten minutes now, and showed no sign of winding down.

"-CLUBS! I mean, the leather's fine, the skirts are fine, but a LEATHER  
MINISKIRT? With PLATFORM BOOTS? He's taller than I am in those boots! And  
which one of you taught him to put on makeup, huh? HUH? I've gotten into  
SIX fights this WEEK over him! He flirts, he dances, he teases, and then he  
comes running back to hide behind me! He pierced his ear. FIVE TIMES! And  
don't even get me STARTED on what he told Anya, I mean, I know she's  
annoying, but no one deserves that!" He paused for breath. Giles, Willow,  
Dawn and Tara sat attentively. Buffy was trying to hold in her laughter.  
 _*Xander's all red!*_

"I mean, I'm glad Spike's getting in touch with his feminine side and  
everything, but JESUS! Enough is ENOUGH! When is he turning back, Willow?  
When? Because I have HAD it with him, and if this goes on much longer, his  
little female DUST molecules will have to transform back into little MALE  
dust molecules because that's all that'll be left of him." He dropped into  
a chair, exhausted. Buffy fought the urge to applaud.

"Well," Willow seemed unflustered, "the spell was meant to last a little  
over two months on a human. I have no idea what that translates to, on a  
vampire. They're magical creatures, you know."

"YES, Willow, I know." He swung to face Giles suddenly. "Why isn't she in  
more trouble for this? I mean, it's her fault, she messed up. How come I'M  
the one saddled with the Diva?"

Giles raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm sure Willow's well aware of the havoc she's caused, and feeling guilty  
about it, quite rightly. And you know you're really the only option we have  
available to us, Xander. Buck up. Take it like a man. Perhaps Buffy can  
take over for you occasionally, to give you a breather." He looked at his  
watch. "Aren't you supposed to be meeting Spike at the Velvet Lounge in  
half an hour?"

Xander growled, hauled himself out of the chair, and slammed the door behind  
him without a word.

"Sad."

"SO sad."

"See what sexual frustration can do to you?"

"Dawn, put your hands over your ears. I wanna change my bet. He'll snap  
and screw Spike into the mattress in eight days."

"You can't have eight, Buffy, Spike has eight."

"Nine?"

"G-giles, don't you have nine?"

"I do indeed."

"Fine, ten then. And I'm never going to win."

"Don't worry, Dawn bet four, so she's already out."

"DAWN!"

"What?"

"You shouldn't be thinking about those things!"

"Oh, please. Like anyone can think of anything else when those two are  
around?"


	4. For The Girl Who Has Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spike takes Xander clubbing.

*****

Another club. Pounding music, drink in hand. He'd never been here before;  
he was too young to get in, but one look at Spike and the bouncer had waved  
them through without a second glance at him.

Where was the bleached menace? He was usually pretty easy to spot, with  
that blond mane, especially under blacklight. Ah. There. Dancing with  
someone very tall wearing vinyl. Xander wouldn't swear to it, but he was  
pretty sure that dancing like that was illegal in this state. It was more  
like mating, without the convenience of a horizontal surface.

Spike threw his head back, and Xander could see his teeth flash as he  
laughed. Could almost hear the low, throaty sound, across a dance floor and  
under the rhythmic thump of the bass. He shivered. _*OK, Xander, get a  
grip. That's SPIKE. Spike, who made you zip up that dress before you went  
out, who ordered you to make his hair 'sexy, but not slutty, yeah?', who's  
been strutting around your apartment in boxers and a t-shirt all week, who  
fell asleep last night with his head on your shoulder...OK, not helping.  
Find another girl to look at. There. Dark hair. Short. Perfect.*_

"Hi there." He realized the futility of trying to talk in a club right  
after the "hi" and before the "there," but figured it would be rude to stop  
halfway through. She did turn and look at him, though, and he tried out a  
smile. She smiled back. He raised an eyebrow and gestured at his drink.  
She nodded, still smiling. He grinned, and hustled off to the bar. When he  
came back, she was still _*wonder of wonders!*_ waiting there. Smiling.

He was deep into a conversation about either global warming or the  
internet--charades had never been a talent of his--when he felt someone long  
and cool slither up his back. He sighed. This had been going so  
well...she'd touched his arm three times, and was smiling up into his eyes  
in a way he kind of liked.

"Hallo, pet." No matter how loud it was, he could always hear Spike.

"Hey, Spike." Spike's chin was digging into his shoulder, as he looked over  
it at the dark haired girl. "You having fun?"

"Eh. That one's a bit grabby. Hey there, would you mind terribly buggering  
off? This one's mine, see." Xander could almost feel the insincerity of  
the smile Spike was sending at his brown-haired girl. More like a baring of  
teeth, really.

He shrugged Spike off his shoulder, and smiled at her again,  
but she was looking at Spike, looking at him, and doing _*terribly  
inaccurate*_ sums in her head. She nodded a thanks for the drink, and  
disappeared into the crowd.

"Spike, GOD. She was nice! What did you have to do that for? And what  
happened to Captain Vinyl?"

"He was getting a little too fond. Suggested some things that made my  
virgin ears burn."

Xander couldn't hold back the snort. "One day, you're gonna push one of  
them too far, Spike. You dance with 'em like the only thing on your mind is  
getting them stripped down and sweaty, and then you wander off. Not playing  
nice."

"Never said I was nice, did I. An' that's what I bring you for. C'mon,  
we're gonna dance. I OBVIOUSLY can't leave you alone."

"Spike, I am not dancing."

"You NEVER dance!"

"There's a REASON for that!"

"Oh, come on, Xan. For me?" He batted his eyelashes. Xander groaned.  
 _*FUCK, Buffy, quit teaching him tricks!*_ "You can just stand there, I'll  
dance around and make you look good. Please?"

Xander took a moment to evaluate. He had a whole lot of Spike pressed up  
against him. He was the focus of a number of envious gazes. He'd be an  
idiot to let go at this point, and lose Spike to the dance floor again. And  
he'd had a few drinks tonight, hopefully enough to overcome the paralyzing  
knowledge of his own ineptness.

He turned, grabbed Spike's hand, and grinned. "Let's go, bleach boy. Show  
me how it's done."

Spike's answering smile lit up the club.

********

 _*Tomorrow night, Buffy takes him out.*_ Xander was bleary with the late hour  
and the alcohol and the constant hormone cocktail Spike had kept him  
hovering on for hours. This was getting downright painful. Spike had shown  
him how it was done, all right. He wouldn't soon forget the feeling of one  
of those long legs sliding between his own, as Spike ran teasing hands over  
his back and whispered dirty secrets in his ear. Or that one song, deep and  
slow and raunchy, when Spike had taken his hips between his hands and moved  
them, until they were grinding together, Xander not even minding that he was  
painfully hard and he KNEW Spike could feel it, because it felt so fucking  
good...and then Spike had leaned in and nibbled on his earlobe with blunt  
human teeth, and his head had gone back and he'd moaned and heard that low,  
answering chuckle...there had been bodies pressing around them on all sides,  
and he could feel the bass in his bones, and Spike slim and cool and pliant  
in his arms...

_*And now he's sleepy, and leaning on me, and I've got to get him home and  
into bed and NOT just throw him down on the couch and have my way with  
him...I am so going to heaven for this.*_

"C'mon, Spike. In the car. Seat belt. We go home now. Come ON, Spike,  
let go of me, I have to drive." He shuffled Spike into the passenger seat,  
shut the door, took a deep breath. _*Brains out of pants. Check. OK to  
drive? Check. Home we go.*_

He sang along with the radio as he drove, in a futile attempt to distract  
himself from the pretty, tipsy, sleeping vampire in his car.

********

Spike watched through half-lidded eyes as Xander moved around the apartment,  
dropping his jacket on the floor, pressing the answering machine button.

"Guys, hi, it's Buffy. Just wanted to see if you had fun at the club  
tonight! Spike, call me, there's a sale at Express that starts tomorrow and  
I was gonna swing by after classes, and I know you want that top. Bye bye."

BEEP

"Hello, this is Giles. Spike, Buffy and I are going to be doing some  
training exercises tomorrow in the afternoon. If you would like to join us,  
I can drop by and pick you up around four. Please let me know. Cheers."

Xander smirked as he poured himself a glass of water and grabbed a blood bag  
for Spike, before sinking down on the couch.

"Shopping vs. training, Slayer vs. Watcher. Will you be paying cash or  
credit, Spike?"

"Oh, credit, I should think. Slayer gets a kick out of dressing me like  
some doll, an' it's her dosh, so I'm not telling her no. Get some nice  
things out of it." He stretched out one leg, peered admiringly at his new  
sandals. Xander admired them too, he could tell by the glazed look in the  
boy's eyes as he followed the pale curve of thigh and calf down to ankle.

BEEP

"Um. Hi guys. It's Willow. I've got some news...um, maybe bad? I don't  
know. Well, I was kind of on the phone with Cordelia, you know I'm helping  
them research that orb thingy they found, and I might have maybe mentioned  
Spike's, um, situation. And she might have laughed a lot and put Angel on  
the phone." Her tone changed from timid to indignant. "He SWORE at me!  
Well, not at me, but he said 'I've got to fucking see this.'" Back to  
timid. "So, I'm pretty sure he's coming here. Tomorrow, maybe? But he's  
bringing the orb, and he sa-"

BEEP

"Xander, your machine cut me off. Anyway, Angel's coming. Buffy knows, and  
she's ok with it, I think. And I thought it would be good to give you some  
warning..." Her voice trailed off. "Well, I hope you had fun tonight.  
Call me if you need anything. Um. Ok. Bye."

Silence. Xander peered cautiously at Spike. His eyes were shut, and his  
head had fallen back against the couch.

"Spike?"

"If I killed Willow and ate her, do you think it would set off the chip?  
It's so justified, you know." Spike's tone was even and conversational. He  
felt inordinately proud of that.

"I might object. She is my best friend, after all. Hey, it might not be  
that bad. You can wear your tall boots. He won't be able to loom over you  
any more."

"That is annoying, isn't it?"

"Very."

Spike shifted and leaned on Xander's arm. Xander was warm and solid and  
terribly comfortable. _*Angel's coming.*_ Xander slid an arm around his  
shoulders, and that was even better. Maybe it was the whole girl-thing.  
Different hormones or something, but he was feeling this very strong urge to  
just curl up right here and cuddle. And Spike did NOT cuddle. _*Angel's  
coming.*_ He pressed his face into Xander's shirt, smelled smoke and whiskey  
and clean human sweat, and felt solid heat underneath. Xander's hand was  
running up and down his arm, but it was without intent, he could tell. Just  
casually comforting. _*Angel's coming.*_ Spike had been slowly invading  
Xander's space over this last week, getting him used to the touching, ready  
for the planned fall on Day Eight. But this whole Angel thing was gonna  
fuck with his timetable something fierce. He didn't want sex now. It was  
dark and quiet and warm and he was tired and didn't want to move. Ever.  
Maybe they could just stay here for a few days, until Angel buggered off to  
wherever he was living now, and things could go back to the strange normal  
he was existing in these days. Where he was the Slayer's best girlfriend,  
he got makeup tips from Dawn, and he was slowly falling in love with a  
hopelessly fashion- and rhythm-impaired human boy.

_*Angel's coming.*_

Oh, this was not going to be fun.

"Bed, Spike."

"You invitin' me?" He couldn't even put any snark into it. And he was  
clinging in a way that, if he had had even a little more pride at that  
point, he would have been deeply ashamed of.

Xander tensed, then relaxed.

"Yeah. Don't ravage me in my sleep, though, or it's back to the couch for  
you. Deal?"

"Deal."

They stumbled to the bedroom. Spike couldn't reach his zipper, so Xander  
did it for him. Xander's sleepy fingers were having trouble with the  
buttons on his cuffs, so Spike flicked them open. Dress off, t-shirt on,  
and Xander wasn't looking at him again. Boxers. Xander disappeared to  
brush his teeth. It was strangely domestic, Spike thought, as he crawled  
into the big bed and under the sheet. He could still smell faint traces of  
Anya, and there was the spicy tang of Willow, and Tara's earthier smell,  
from when they'd had to evacuate the dorm for a burst pipe and Xander had  
gallantly slept on the couch. But mostly he could smell Xander. Sweet and  
musky and male, comforting. He curled up on his side, and let his eyes fall  
shut. Just before he drifted off, he felt the bed dip, and arms come around  
him, and he sighed, and slept.

*******

Spike in the morning looked like a rumpled dandelion. He was all squinty  
and cranky, and his hair stood out in a fluffy platinum halo around his  
head. Xander could usually get up and out the door to work without Spike  
twitching a finger, but this morning as he'd tried to disentangle himself  
from long pale arms, Spike had muttered and sniffed and blue eyes had  
cracked open to glare at him balefully.

Xander called in sick. After all, it was a big event, the Scourge of Europe  
coming to town, and everything. _*Yeah, right. You just wanted to make  
Spike coffee and listen to him yell at Ricki Lake and watch him wander around blinking for an hour  
before he gets in the shower and wakes all the way up. Oh, and also, he's  
looking a little stressed, so hey. Supportive Xander strikes again!*_

It was weird, the way Spike kept flip-flopping between ultra-masculine and  
hyper-feminine. One minute he'd be batting his eyelashes and swishing his  
hips, and laying fingers delicately on Xander's arm. The next he'd growl  
and sit with legs all sprawled and slap away any touch, and look at pretty  
girls with an admiring eye. Xander supposed the habits of a century or so  
were hard to break, no matter what your body was telling you you were. It  
was disconcerting, though. He'd look at Spike and see, well, SPIKE, evil  
vampire guy, all-around badass, master of the cutting comment,  
hands-fucking-OFF, thankyouverymuch. And then he'd blink, and be looking at  
Spike, still evil, probably; still badass, definitely; but feminine and  
softer, somehow, a little less edgy, and definitely more touchable. It  
worried him that he couldn't figure out which one he liked better.

"Spike?"

"WHAT?"

"Whoa, bite my head off. I just wanted to know when you wanted to head over  
to Buffy's."

"Why would I want to go to Buffy's?"

"Well, there's the shopping. It frightens me how well you two get along  
when you're in a mall. Also, um, I think Angel's going to go to her place  
when he gets here."

"Reason number ONE for me to be nowhere near the soddin' place."

"Could you come in here so I can quit shouting at you?"

"Fine, fine, but you'd better be making coffee."

Spike joined him in the kitchen. Xander felt he could be excused for  
thinking that he was the most edible item in the room.

"So, I repeat, why should we go to Buffy's? I want to avoid the broody one  
if at all possible."

"He's here to see YOU."

"So?"

"Don't you think it's rude to just avoid him?"

"Ask me if I could **possibly** care less. Go ahead. I dare you."

"Plus, if you don't go, he'll think you're hiding from him."

"I'm not hiding."

"You know that, and I know that, but he won't know that. Come on. Get  
dressed up pretty, I'll do your hair, you'll knock his overstarched socks  
off."

Contemplative silence. Spike sipped his coffee.

"Can I wear the black leather pants?"

"Sure."

"And the blue shirt?"

"Absolutely. Though I don't know if technically that garment qualifies as a  
shirt."

"And-"

"Spike. Wear what you want. He'll never know what hit him." _*And the idea  
that you're putting this much thought into it does NOT make my stomach hurt,  
oh no it does not. The fact that tall dark and broody has the undivided  
attention of yet another gorgeous blond does not mean I should be reaching  
for the nearest stake. Calm, Xander. Go shower. Think of nice things.  
Like Angeldust. The kind that comes from the termination of Angel. Yeah.*_

He showered. He changed. He looked at what Spike had picked out to wear,  
and shook his head.

"Spike, you look like a hooker in that. You want to look good, but not like  
you're TRYING to look good."

"But you said I could wear this shirt!"

"I take it back. Go get something else."

"Don't wanna."

"Fine, but he's going to laugh."

"FINE."

Three changes later, and Spike was in dark jeans that fit him like a soft  
second skin, a tight black t-shirt with 'Blow Job Queen' across the front in  
rhinestones, and his favorite black boots. Because, as he explained, a  
chance to be five inches taller in the presence of his grandsire was just  
too good to pass up.

Xander sniffed and wiped at imaginary tears.

"My little girl's all growed up!"

Spike snarled and batted at him. "Wanker. Can we go?"

"20 more minutes till Buffy gets out of class. I guess it's true, all girls  
really DO take longer to get ready. I don't remember you being this slow  
before."

"Yeah, well. Once you realize that everyone's gonna be staring at your ass,  
it becomes a bit more of a priority to make sure that ass looks good."

"Whatever. People were staring at your ass before, too."

Spike's brow arched. Xander blushed. _*Mouth! Mouth! I am cutting out my  
tongue, I SWEAR it.*_

"Really?" That drawl was the most infuriating thing EVER. "Do tell, Xander."

"Not, I mean. I'm not saying I. You know. I'm sure. Well." He gave up,  
and looked at Spike helplessly. Spike chuckled, and patted his face gently.

"S'okay, pet. No harm. Don't swallow your tongue, there. I might need it,  
later."

He dropped his hand and turned away, and Xander felt something break in his  
brain. He grabbed Spike's shoulder, spun him back around, _*whoa! Spike's  
like three inches taller than me in those damn boots*_ , grabbed his face, and  
looked into startled blue eyes.

"I might need it now." _*OK, lamest line EVER. I should be killed for that.  
Whatever. Kissing Spike NOW.*_

He was lapping at cool lips, and they parted under his tongue and let him  
in, and oh, Spike tasted like heaven. He had his hands tangled in short  
white curls, and his hips arching into that lean body, and Spike was kissing  
him back, KISSING HIM BACK! And making little whimpering sounds into his  
mouth, and running frantic hands down his sides and back up and grabbing  
hold, as he kissed deeper, wanting to memorize this taste and the cool  
slickness of Spike's mouth and the pressure of his tongue against his own,  
and the way Spike was coming apart so beautifully under his hands.

They broke apart, panting and staring.

"Took you long enough, you tosser."

"Cut me some slack, Spike. Seven days ago you were a GUY."

"Bet you wanted me then too."

"Bet I didn't."

"You already said you were looking at my ass."

"I did NOT!"

"Did too."

"Did- I am not getting into this with you. C'mere." He pulled Spike down  
again, and kissed that smiling mouth.

They were late to the mall to meet Buffy, but Spike held his hand the whole  
way, so he couldn't bring himself to care. And he trailed them through the  
stores in a happy daze, not caring that Spike was holding BUFFY's hand, now,  
and towing her over to look at some sparkly thing that he couldn't even  
identify, but was sure would look stunning on Spike. They were maybe even  
squealing. Spike was SUCH a girl. He snickered, caught a glare, turned it  
into a cough, and waited meekly while they went to the register.

*********

Spike sure had Xander well-trained, and in under a week! Buffy was  
impressed. It had taken her months to get Riley to stand with that patient,  
long-suffering posture outside the fitting room, nodding obediently and  
giving his mostly-ignored opinion on the garment in question. Xander hadn't  
even made a move towards the record store, though he had looked in longingly  
as they walked by. Spike had too, but Buffy was on a mission. Mission  
'Pretend Angel Is Not Coming Here.' She suspected that Spike was on a  
similar mission, and that Xander understood and was trying to be supportive.  
She had history with Angel, sure. Intense, painful history. But Spike  
had HISTORY. Like, the kind you read about in school.

She picked out another skirt.

*********

"Do you think he's there yet?"

"If he is, he'll be sitting on the porch. Mom went out to dinner with some  
work people, and Dawn's at a friend's."

"Good. Let him cool his heels a bit."

"Spike, be nice."

"Fat bloody chance of THAT."

"Xander, smack him."

"I can't, I'm driving!"

"This isn't exactly easy for me either, you know."

"Hah. Did you have him tortured the last time you saw him? Is he gonna  
laugh his great froufy ass off when he sees YOU? No, I thought not."

"Don't worry, Spike, we'll protect you."

"Oh, thank you Xander, I feel MUCH better now. Ass."

"Hey! Take it easy on the insults, there, fangless, or I won't defend your  
honor."

"Like it needs defending from anyone but you."

"OOOH. Tell tell! Spike? You have to tell, it's in the rules!"

"What rules? What? Spike, don't you dare..."

"Hey, we're here. Oh bollocks, that's his car."

"That's him."

"Do I have to get out?"

"Um, yes? Otherwise, he'll miss the impact of that shirt."

"Nice, huh?"

"Oh yeah. Come on. Let's get this over with."


	5. What It Feels Like For A Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel meets his new granddaughter.

Buffy went first. It seemed only appropriate, since it was her house and  
all. She got out of the car, strolled up her walk, smiled at Angel, invited  
him inside. They'd decided that the big reunion probably shouldn't be  
played out for the edification of the neighbors, on the off chance that  
Spike felt the irresistible urge to punch Angel.

Spike and Xander followed, Spike muttering unrepeatable things under his  
breath, and slouching along grimly. Just before the door, though, he  
straightened up, took a purely therapeutic deep breath, shook his hair out  
of his eyes, and smiled. Xander wondered if he'd get smacked for offering a  
comforting kiss. Probably. He restrained himself to a pat on the back, and  
pushed the door open.

The way Spike sauntered into the living room, Xander wouldn't have thought  
he had a care in the world.

"Angel. How's tricks, then?"

"Spike." Angel raised one cool eyebrow. "You're looking  
remarkably...well."

"You don't know how much that means to me, really." Spike bared his teeth  
in a grin. Or grin-type thing. Xander wondered how deep Spike's gender  
switch really went, since he could almost taste the testosterone in the air.  
He drifted a little closer to Spike. Angel had of course not acknowledged  
him at all. Superior asshole.

"Hey there Deadboy." Time to get in on this conversation, since Buffy  
wasn't being any help. "Checking up on the family? Dropping by to borrow a  
cup of blood? It's always such a treat when you visit."

"And you know how much I look forward to seeing you, Harris." Angel  
dismissed him again with a glance. "So, Spike, how's life on the flip  
side?"

"Oh, fascinating. You should really give it a go sometime. Might give you  
a bit of much-needed insight into the female mind." Spike stretched  
luxuriantly, and Xander could see Angel reading his shirt for the first  
time, and Angel's jaw maybe dropped a little, though he recovered admirably.  
"Though, come to think of it, you'd make a terribly ugly woman, Angel.  
Best to stick with what you know. Not that you're tops at the whole male  
thing either."

"I think I've managed to beat your scrawny ass pretty convincingly on any  
number of occasions."

"Angel, Angel." Spike tsk'd and shook his head in a remarkably sincere show  
of disappointment. "Haven't you learned yet that might doesn't make the  
man? Otherwise, Buffy'd be packing a pair of stones that you'd never hope  
to match. Oh, wait. Too late."

"OK, enough, Spike." Buffy had finally awakened from her coma, to Xander's  
great relief. "You two have had your fun, now can we sit down and talk like  
civilized people?"

"If you can get that great brooding brute to behave like a civilized person,  
you're even more powerful than I thought."

"Oh, and you're the poster boy for etiquette. Poster girl." Angel  
sniggered. "Should I buy you a dolly? A little dress? I always wanted a  
granddaughter-"

"STOP it." Buffy was looking pissed. Xander prudently withdrew to the  
couch. He was decidedly out of his weight class, here. "Angel, quit making  
cracks about dolls, or I'm gonna get all girl-power on you, and no one wants  
that. You both know you're not going to kill each other today, so what's  
the point of all this?"

Spike shrugged elegantly, and sat by Xander. "S'fun. He's such an  
insufferable tosser."

"And he's such a complete brat. Oh, sorry, Miss Spike. SHE, of course."

"Traveling with you two must have been a constant joy. I'm starting to  
understand why Dru's so bonkers."

"Oh, it was much better back then. He actually had a sense of humor, even  
if he was never too terribly quick. The soul's damaged his brain, though,  
or maybe it's that poncey hairgel. Any road, it's barely a moment's  
entertainment any more."

"I think having my knee on his throat for all those years when he was  
SUBMITTING to me must have deprived poor Spike of oxygen." Angel shook his  
head, looked mournful. "He seems to be hallucinating again."

Spike stood in one liquid movement and was in Angel's space, eye to eye,  
game faced and snapping his fangs. Angel, startled, stepped back and bumped  
into the back of the couch, and then Buffy was there, and shoved them apart  
HARD. Xander chewed a fingernail. _*Oh, this is not good, not good...*_

"KNOCK IT OFF. You, go sit down. Xander, grab him. And you, you're  
supposed to be the mature one here! What the hell are you thinking, Angel?  
You said you wanted to make sure he was ok, or I'd never have told you you  
could come." She shoved him down into an armchair, and stood tapping her  
foot. It always amused Xander to see big bad Angel getting pushed around by  
little Buffy, and now that he had Spike firmly in hand, he could grin. The  
arm he was holding was still quivering with tension, though, and he ran his  
fingers up and down absently, soothing the tremble away.

Spike relaxed abruptly back into the couch.

Buffy glared at them both, impartially.

"Now, start over. Angel, say hi to Spike, and Spike, say something polite  
back. NOW."

"Bossy little bint, ain't she. Do as she says, Angel, or she won't take me  
dancing tomorrow night."

Angel stared at Spike incredulously, then at Buffy, then, for good measure,  
Xander, who shrugged.

"They go shopping, too. It's deeply, deeply scary."

"I can see that." He sighed. "OK. Hello Spike. I came to make sure  
you're all right, because even though I hate you, you ARE family. You look  
pretty good, considering that you've changed sexes and everything. Also  
tall. Did that come as part of the package?"

Xander nudged Spike, who looked like he was about to giggle. "Answer him,  
moron," he hissed, and Angel shot him a considering glance.

"Angel. Nice of you to come, though I can't imagine what brought on this  
sudden rush of family feeling. I'm fine. And I'm not telling about the  
height, it's a trade secret." He smirked. "There. Are we done? Can I  
go?"

"NO. Sit here and be nice. I'm going to make coffee. Xander, you're  
helping."

"I am?"

"NOW, Xander."

He rose, reluctantly. "Aren't you worried about your furniture?"

"I'm sure they both know what will happen if I hear any fighting." She  
threw her voice over her shoulder. "RIGHT?"

"Right." "Sure, sure. Take all the fun out of it, Slayer."

********

_*Look at him. Her. LOOK at him. He's gorgeous, the brat. Though I  
suppose it's logical...Angelus did like pretty things, and I wouldn't have  
let Dru turn him if I hadn't seen potential in the boy. I always thought  
there was something a little girly about Spike, and damn if it didn't  
translate well.*_

"So."

"So."

"You get over that whole hot poker injury?"

"Don't bring that up, Spike, you know it'll just piss me off."

"Piss YOU off? I'm not the one smashed that ring. Anyone should be bitter,  
it's me."

"Whatever. What's it like?"

"What?"

Angel rolled his eyes. "Growing another head, of course. Being a GIRL,  
stupid."

"Oi! Watch it, or I'll get the Slayer to beat you up."

"I don't think so."

"You might've shagged her, Angel, but I've been to the outlet mall with her.  
It doesn't even compare."

"Again I say, whatever. Seriously. What's it like?"

Spike paused, and looked at him. Those were some blue, blue eyes. Angel  
was careful to show nothing but curiosity.

Spike shrugged, after a moment. "It's all a bit bizzare, really. I'm still  
me, for the most part. The clothes are fun, an' it's easy to wind the  
blokes up. Got these tits, though, an' they don't seem to be good for much  
except getting me free drinks. Annoying as hell, actually, 'specially when  
it comes to the whole issue of underthings." He glanced sharply at Angel,  
who was NOT laughing, and continued. "Haven't got a willy, obviously. An'  
it's harder to do my hair."

"Still evil?"

"Naturally. You even need to ask?"

"Sure. I was wondering, since you smell like you've been rolling in Xander  
for the last few days." He looked at Spike evenly. "He's a complete  
fucking idiot and I've always known it, but I thought you'd have better  
sense."

Spike stared at him again. It was a little unnerving. Spike had always  
done INTENSE better than anyone he'd ever met.

He stood again, suddenly. "C'mon, I'm steppin' out for a fag."

Angel followed him out onto the porch, sank down on the step to sit next to  
him. He heard Buffy step to the door to check on them, but when she didn't  
see any mayhem, her footsteps faded back into the kitchen, and he heard her  
light voice, "they're fine, Xander, stay there..."

Spike stretched his legs out, and crossed them comfortably at the ankles.  
Angel couldn't help but chuckle as he caught sight of the five inch heels on  
the black boots. Spike grinned sideways at him.

"Not all bad, this girl thing." He smoked in silence for a minute, and  
Angel took a moment to marvel at the calm. He could still hear Buffy moving  
around inside, and let his heart ache for a moment. Heard Xander's deeper  
voice, and was brought back to the point at hand.

"So. Xander, Spike? I didn't think you went in for boys, these days.  
Especially not the stupid, annoying kind."

"Mind that."

"Sorry."

"Don't know where you get off, making cracks. After you and Dru were  
through with me, wasn't much I hadn't done."

Angel shifted uncomfortably. "I think I apologized for that, Spike-"

Spike cut him off with a nonchalant wave of the cigarette. "Eh. Could've  
been worse, I s'pose." He stopped, considered. "No, I don't suppose it  
could have, actually. But that's beside the point. For one thing, I'm  
currently a female-type person, 'case you missed that bit. For another, the  
lad's all right. And finally, it's none of your fuckin' business."

"Xander's all-rightness aside, Buffy said you'd change back, sooner or  
later. What then?"

"Sooner or later can mean a lot of things, ducks. An' I've never been one  
for the long range planning, you know that. Left that sort of thing to you  
introspective types."

"As evidenced by your mixed success rate over the years. Not that I'm  
complaining. Spike, this is a TERRIBLE idea."

He took a deep, final drag off the cigarette, and stubbed it out in a  
flowerpot. "Business as usual, then."

Angel had no reply to that.

********

"Don't shag her, Angel, I don't WANT the world to get sucked into hell!"  
Spike shouted over his shoulder as Xander dragged him out the door, and  
slammed it shut on Buffy's indignant shriek.

"Spike, good lord." He hustled the giggling vampire down the steps and to  
the car. It was late, and Spike and Angel had been into Mrs. Summers' wine,  
while Xander and Buffy played wary babysitters. _*Baby is right. If I had  
to hear him whine ONE more time about Angel's abuse of gel, or Angel's lack  
of enthusiasm about his unlife, or god forbid, listen to Angel tell one more  
story about Spike's 'childhood'...though those were pretty funny, once I got  
past the eww factor. Evisceration, the untapped comic goldmine.*_ He batted  
away wandering hands.

"Don't grope me in the front yard, Spike. Hey, it's after ten. Do you  
wanna go home, or somewhere else?" He shoved Spike into the car, and came  
around the other side.

"It's not ten, it's eight." Spike was frowning and trying to concentrate.  
Xander hadn't thought he was THAT drunk.

"No, it's really ten, I swear. What do you want to do?"

"No, it's EIGHT. D-day. Gotta do it. Want to go dancing?" Spike's eyes  
lit up. "We can go dancing, I can forget that sod Angel, and then we can go  
home." He purred the 'home' with such intent, Xander felt it all up and  
down his spine. _*Whoa.*_

"What are you TALKING about? Did being around Angel for that long make you  
nuts? More nuts, I mean? And I'm not really dressed for dancing." He  
started the car, pulled out. Removed Spike's hand from his thigh.

"You never are, pet. We should go anyway." He leaned over and nuzzled his  
face into Xander's neck. If he had asked Xander to drive to Argentina at  
that point, Xander probably would have just asked him to point the way.

"O-OK. Hey, there's the Bronze! What do you say, Spike. Old time's sake?"  
He was desperate to get back out of this car, suddenly. It had become the  
Car of Sex. Spike's fingers were curling under the hem of his shirt. He  
couldn't think. No blood in his brain.

Spike scowled, then brightened. "Hey, yeah! Last time I was there was a  
bit of all right. Can't go in the alley, though. I'll get all cranky if we  
do."

"Oooookay. No alleys. We'll go in, you'll dance, I'll watch, and then  
we'll go home. It'll be good." _*And maybe by then you'll have come down  
off of whatever hormone high you're on, and stopped TORMENTING me like  
this!*_ By the end, there, Spike had gotten over any personal space issues  
he might have had, and had kissed Buffy twice (to Angel and Xander's great  
dismay and not slight arousal, and Buffy's amusement), and Angel once,  
because Angel, as he said, needed to 'get that great bloody stick out of his  
arse and have another drink.' Angel had turned red, and had poured another  
drink. Xander had turned green, and had started making motions towards the  
door. Not that anyone had noticed. All eyes on Spike, as usual.

 _*It's nice to know that a deep and fundamental need to be the absolute  
center of attention isn't necessarily gender related. Because Spike was  
JUST like this when he was a guy.*_ Xander snorted as he locked his car and  
followed the gleeful blond vampire into the familiarity of the Bronze.  
 _*Buck up, little Harris! You've been surrounded by beautiful unobtainable  
women for years now! This should be a walk in the park!* _

But the problem was, Spike wasn't just beautiful and unobtainable. He was smart and fierce  
and weird and annoying and mean and funny and hot... He looked at the curve  
of Spike's hip as he slid past two high school kids to get to the bar.  
 _*Focus, young Jedi. That is not for you.*_

Spike didn't seem inclined to dance, though, trailing after him, drink in  
hand, to a seat at one of the high round tables. Instead of sitting  
himself, he propped himself up against the table, disconcertingly close, and  
looked right at Xander.

"What?" _*I hate it when he stares like that.*_

"Just thinkin'. I saw you lot for the first time, right over there." Spike  
indicated the spot with his head. Xander frowned.

"No, you saw me for the first time in the school, when you were gonna EAT  
me. I still don't think I've thanked Angel properly for that, by the way."

"Nope. I was in here, scopin' out the Slayer. She was sittin' there, with  
the witch. YOU were dancin' like an utter git, over there."

"Oh, thanks Spike. Remind me how badly I suck."

Spike shrugged, inched closer. "We've all got our strengths, luv."

"Mine just don't happen to include dancing."

"Well, you were doin' all right last night. There was a fair bit of  
grinding going on, as I recall." He leered. Xander blushed.

"That was all you. You made me. I mean."

"That won't fly, Xan. I was there, remember." He lifted a hand, placed it  
on Xander's side, just above his hip. "Wanna do it again?" He leaned in,  
even closer.

Xander was trapped in blue eyes.

"What, here?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"Not here?"

"No."

"Somewhere else?"

"Maybe." An alien had taken over Xander's brain. That was the only  
explanation. He could feel the air Spike was using to speak brushing over  
his mouth, soft as a kiss. Spike was very close.

"Home?"

"We just got here."

"So?"

He couldn't think of a good answer to that.

The ride home was a blur. Good thing he knew the way. Locked the door  
behind them, and looked at Spike, who was leaning casually against the wall,  
half in shadow. Every inch a predator. _*And then the female of the species  
devours her mate...*_ Xander's brain gibbered in a Discovery Channel British  
voice. He was frozen. He didn't know what to do.

Spike solved his problems. Never one to wait on ceremony, his Spike. He  
slid over to Xander, wrapped his arms around his waist, whispered in his  
ear.

"Come to bed, Xander."

*******

The boy was hot, hot in his arms and against this strange body, fitting  
against him oddly where he curved, unexpectedly. He could feel the warmth  
seeping into him, loosening his joints, waking a strange ache deep in his  
belly. He dipped his head, still tall in his boots, and caught Xander's  
mouth with his own, still looking into shocked, almost-black eyes. He  
remembered this taste. Hadn't been able to forget it since this afternoon,  
when he'd had to drag himself away by force to go see his interfering  
grandsire. He hoped Angel wasn't having this much fun right now. The  
wanker.

Christ. Xander'd woken up, apparently, and was sucking on his tongue. Oh,  
lovely. And his hands were sliding around to span his waist, run up his  
back, cup his head and his ass _*nice*_ and pull him in even closer. Deeper.  
Wet heat and slickness, hardness nudging at his thigh, and he could lose  
himself in this, and Xander pulled back, gasping for air.

"Spike..." It came out more as a moan. Xander dove back in, pushing him  
backwards with his body, towards where he vaguely remembered the bedroom  
door to be.

"Yeah. Oh, FUCK yeah." He didn't care that he was mumbling against smooth  
lips. Xander shivered at his words, eased big hands under his shirt, and  
stroked the skin on his sides. Rough callouses made him arch and groan, and  
then he was being tipped back onto the bed, and Xander was coming down on  
top of him, and this wasn't the way he was used to it happening. He pulled  
away almost violently, and sat up.

"Spike?" Xander sounded bewildered, sitting up next to him.

"Half a mo', pet. Just have to get my mind round a new way of doing  
things." He stretched, settled himself back into his body, and let himself  
relax back into the hand resting between his shoulderblades.

"Have you...done this before?"

Spike snorted. "In an absolute sense? Yeah."

"I mean..."

"Xander, have you seen anyone sneaking out of your flat at some early hour?"

"Well, no."

"So, no."

"So, you're a..."

"Spit it out."

"Um. Virgin?"

"In a way."

Xander flopped back onto the bed. Covered his eyes with a forearm. And  
wailed.

"Why does this always happen to ME?"

"What's that?"

"Girls in brand-new bodies. Anya. You. At least, with you, I've had a  
little practice."

"So, you're the expert."

"I'm the...that's just wrong. Look, we don't have to..."

"I want to."

"Do you want to in general, or do you want to with me?" Xander didn't move  
the hand over his eyes, but his voice was clear and even.

Spike was impressed. That question had taken some serious knackers.

"With you." Didn't cost him anything to admit it, he figured. And he was  
hoping that hand on his back would move again, bring that strange melting  
feeling back to him.

Xander sighed, and it sounded almost defeated.

"OK. We'll go slow. Yell if something isn't working. I'd say something  
about steering you around the curves, but then I'd have to go into therapy  
and we'd never get this done."

Spike blinked at him, uncomprehending.

"Never mind. C'mere." He pulled Spike down, on top of him this time,  
slowly easing him along until he was spread all over that delicious warmth.  
Spike almost purred, with the comfort. _*Not so strange, now that I'm on top.  
What a lovely, lovely boy...*_ He felt his hips thrusting down and  
forward, habit of a lifetime, and the pressure of Xander's hardness against  
him was just as sweet. Nudging against him where he felt empty, suddenly,  
and there were too many clothes between him and Xander. Suddenly frantic,  
he pushed Xander's shirt up until it caught under his arms, folded himself  
to lick and taste a nipple, felt the vibration of a moan, ran his tongue  
down to the trail of hair that disappeared into Xander's jeans. Salt and  
damp, and he could smell the musk rising from between Xander's legs, and he  
glanced up. Xander was biting his lip, eyes shut tight, but lying still,  
not grabbing him, not pushing, just letting him do what he wanted.

"This isn't a spectator sport, y'know."

Xander's eyes snapped open, and there was the heat he was looking for.

"Take off your boots, Spike."

Spike grinned.

*********

Xander was losing. his. mind. Spike was stripping. That was the only word  
for it, really, and Xander would know. One boot, then two. Little black  
t-shirt, that had given Xander dirty thoughts for almost an entire day, now.  
Spike in a lacy black bra and his tight tight jeans, setting his boots so  
carefully by the bed. Folding his shirt. Leaving Xander sprawled on the  
bed half-naked, waiting for him. Finally, finally, hands on his zipper,  
easing it down, torturously slow. Sliding hands underneath the waistband,  
shimmying them down his hips, stepping out of them. Xander couldn't  
breathe. Spike was not a natural blond. _*No SHIT, Xander.*_ He couldn't  
decide whether to be glad or terrified that Uncertain Spike had disappeared,  
and left normal, Confident Spike behind. He thought, probably, glad.  
Because that bra was coming off, and oh Jesus, Spike was naked, and he'd  
seen flashes and hints, but all of his fevered imaginings were nothing  
compared to this.

Cool length of leg, with a perfect curving line from strong thighs to the  
dip behind the knees, smooth calf, delicate feet. Higher. Sweetly generous  
ass. Tiny waist, and a little hollow between his hipbones where his stomach  
dipped. Dark curling hair, protecting secrets. Muscled abdomen. Xander  
wondered absently if he had a well-hidden amazon fetish. Arch of ribcage,  
the skin taut and smooth. Swell of breasts, pale and perfect, with small  
dark nipples. Sharp blade of collarbone, wide shoulders. Long, elegant  
neck. Pointed chin. Red mouth. Straight nose. Riot of white-blond curls.  
Huge blue eyes, smiling at him.

He was supposed to maintain control with THIS in his bed? Was he panting?  
He thought maybe he was panting.

Spike eased over to the bed. Xander didn't want to stop watching.  
Black-nailed small hands at his waist, pulling down his jeans, and he almost  
yelped at the relief of pressure on his cock. Spike hummed. Crawled on top  
of him, and it was like being rubbed all over with cool satin. He felt  
himself arching up, completely involuntarily, his head pressing back into  
the pillow, and his fingertips were tracing down the long groove of Spike's  
spine, then one hand was cupping the weight of a breast, and his palm was  
rasping against a hardening nipple. Spike's eyes sparked and flared. Spike  
was straddling his waist, and he could feel crisp hair rubbing against his  
hardness. Oh god, oh no...he let his hand dip down between Spike's legs,  
felt the wetness there, and smiled. Thank god.

Thank ANYA. Months and months of intensive practice, and he found that damp  
little nub with his fingers, touched it lightly. Spike yelped, and bucked  
up, then back down, eyes wide.

"What the FUCK?"

Xander felt smug. Tugged gently. Rolled a nipple between his fingers.  
Spike sucked in air, then swooped in for a kiss, and this one had something  
of wonder in it.

"Don't stop that. Xander..."

"I won't, I won't..." He was getting some sweet friction from Spike's leg  
between his own, and maybe they wouldn't make it to the actual sex, because  
he could see the flex and play of muscles in Spike's arms as he supported  
himself over Xander, and the shiver and push of insistent hips into his  
hand. His thumb took over while his fingers pushed in, tight-wet-tight  
holding him inside, and he was running his tongue into Spike's mouth, and  
his fingers were in Spike's body, and he could feel tension coiling in his  
thighs and his belly. Spike was restless against him, moving in little  
jerks, shifting his hands to grab at his arms, yanking and tugging at him,  
pulling his knees up under himself and letting them slide back down, doing a  
long full-body writhe. Xander picked up the pace. Let his hips jack up  
againagainagain HARDER, fingers moving in time, and Spike tensed and froze  
and shuddered and dropped his face to Xander's neck and Xander could feel  
the orgasm just wrack him, and that was it, the camel's straw, and his mind  
came apart in a flare of white light.

*******

He was all tangled up in sheets and boy, and feeling really remarkably good.  
Like he was fizzing, all over. And Xander was wearing the goofiest grin  
he'd ever seen.

"Xander? Pet?"

"Hmmm?"

"Is the real thing that nice, do you think?"

"From your end? I wouldn't know."

"Well."

"Well what?"

"Guess we'll have to try it out. I'll let you know."

Xander laughed, and rolled him over.

***

When Spike woke up normal the next morning, they did it all again.


End file.
